My last day as Ms.

Today will be the last day that I legally go by Ms. and it has been a hard fact to swallow.

I am a fan of a TV show called ‘Mom’ and one of their characters was in such a state because she was getting married and had to change her last name.. and she wondered why. I am that character or have been for the last couple of months. Bonnie in the show, realized that she will no longer be ‘Plunkett’, but will take the name of her new husband and what that meant for her in the end of a 25 minute episode, is that after 40 something years, her identity will change and she wasn’t actually happy about it at first.

‘It took me a long time to figure out who I am, and after all of it, I kinda like this person, and now I have to change my name?’
Bonnie is a recovering addict and that journey is no joy ride and the coming to a place where you are ‘happy’ with yourself is a meaningful accomplishment therefore I understood her predicament.

I am not a recovering addict, but like so many of us, I am in recovery of so many hard truths I have endured in my life. It hasn’t been easy but it definitely has been worth it. I am so fortunate to invest my days in something I love to do which makes this ride so much more enjoyable. And after 49 years of it, my identity will change.

My, whom I will refer to after tomorrow as ‘husband’, said ‘I don’t want you to change your name.’ and that was sweet but unrealistic for me. My definition of marriage is too old school to NOT take on his last name and I actually love him which makes it more meaningful. Anyone that knows me, knows my cynicism and sarcastic humor, therefore, I will leave it at that.
And his family is old school as well therefore it is meaningful on that clan’s side. I remember his mother once asking him as we waited for a table at a local pub, in her faint Irish brogue, ‘When are ya going to give’er our last name?!’. It made me smile and him blush. A mother and her boy, how I love their relationship; how can I not take their last name?

What’s in a name?
If you have been following all of the catastrophes in the past centuries, well, EVERYTHING. Self-professed over-thinker here, the recognition of a name establishes the existence of said person, said people. You can’t deny them because they have a NAME and even though this may be truth, I didn’t always think of it that way.
I didn’t grow up loving who I was therefore my name was irrelevant. I didn’t care for the very common name ROSA, I was denied by my father before birth therefore could care less about CHAVEZ. I was an overweight child raised by a very, let’s call it ‘overwhelmed’ grandmother that was raising her own child when I was ‘given’ to her after burying her daughter, my mom. That was my beginning but it is not where I am now.

I made my given name. I didn’t change it, like so many youngsters do today. I sat in my name which reminded me of those I came from as they were the ones that gave it to me and their story continued with me and I made it my story. Rosa happens to be the name of my paternal grandmother, whom I have varied feelings towards yet can admire the strength she demonstrated in the days I experienced who she was. And the Chavez, like so many immigrant families happen to be a large bunch of hard-working people that love life, and know how to live it.
There was also Carvajal, my grandmother’s married name, which was very present in the years I lived in her country, Dominican Republic. Many Latin American countries go by BOTH last names. It recognizes the father and mother’s last names when enrolled in school, therefore I was always ‘Rosa Isabel Chavez Carvajal’, a mouthful, like me. And as I grew to be a steady A student, my grandmother rejoiced in knowing her last name was recognized.

Later on when graduating from college in 2005, I was living in Florence and couldn’t get to FIT on 28th street to submit my birth certificate as proof of Carvajal, so they could add it to my degree. And so I was going to forego the insertion of Carvajal until I told my grandmother.
QUE?! WHAT?! she yelled over the phone.
‘Gracias a mi, estas donde estas. Que lo que hay que hacer? pa’que te lo pongan.
Thanks to me, you are where you are. What must be done? so they can add it.
I witnessed how important it was for her, for me to have her last name on that document. I realized it was as if she too was earning that degree, her hard work was validated and recognized just by appearing on that paper. I couldn’t believe she would take the train down to FIT and find her way through a 5 building campus with no English and get it done, and once again she showed me that anything can get done when there is sheer will behind it.

And then there are all of my years of teaching, teaching children in adult-like bodies and hearing my last name called over and over again. Hearing many versions of it, ‘Shabaldy’ when I cut off all my hair, ‘Mama Chavez’ when they would experience my maternal side, ‘Chavey-Chav’ when the ‘cool’ side would emerge or ‘Chavy’. If you teach and don’t take yourself too seriously, this will happen. At least, they will share your nicknames with you, otherwise, you will be ridiculed behind your back. These are the ways of teenagers, and I have crossed paths with so many, I feel so blessed.
So when I am called ‘Ms. Chavez’ in certain spaces, I know I have given worth to my last name and the pride and joy I feel is incomparable.

‘It took me a long time to figure out who I am, and after all of it, I kinda like this person, and now I have to change my name?’

Legally after Wednesday the 17th, I will ADD a name, Gaffney, to who I am.
I didn’t have to but John Gaffney happens to be a wondrous man.
My #lovethegaf exists for a reason.
He fits my puzzle perfectly and I his.
He is what they refer to as ‘my person’.
He ticks all the boxes of what I needed, my Lord saw to that and his flaws are my challenges.
He loves me.. after the long time it took to undo the lie that no one could, he demonstrates it.
I am more than happy to become Mrs. Chavez-Gaffney

P.S. We met on Tinder